


Oh, It's Teatime

by calculatingMinutiae



Series: The Ghost of Glimwood Tangle [12]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Fae Opal, Fluff and Angst, Fun with Ghost Logic, Gen, Ghost!Allister, He's figuring things out still, It's mostly Bede, Opal and Allister are Childhood Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculatingMinutiae/pseuds/calculatingMinutiae
Summary: Ballonlea, 2019Bede and Allister both meet because of Opal, obviously. The dynamic between her grandson and nine-year-old childhood friend isn't exactly conventional.
Relationships: Beet | Bede & Poplar | Opal, Onion | Allister & Beet | Bede, Onion | Allister & Poplar | Opal
Series: The Ghost of Glimwood Tangle [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576204
Comments: 13
Kudos: 162





	Oh, It's Teatime

**Author's Note:**

> Over the river and through the woods, to grandma's house we go (even if it isn't actually hers, anymore)

Saturday, in Allister’s world, is Tea Day. It’s been a weekly tradition since he woke up in the middle of the 2010s to find that a significant chunk of world history had passed him by, not the least of which being that Opal’s hair had gone completely white. Now that they’re back on speaking terms, it’s become routine for Galar’s oldest and youngest gym leader to catch up with goings on (both in and out of the League) over a cuppa, even if they have to keep the( _ir_ ) gym( _s_ , much to Allister’s delight, feeling genuinely _accomplished_ after drifting with no sense of urgency or meaning for so long) closed for an hour to do it. 

Allister insists on coming to Ballonlea, these days, though he’s well aware Opal is more than fit to traverse the Tangle. It’s somewhat therapeutic, now that he has his team and the liberty to _leave_ the forest when he likes, to follow the paths Opal has carved out for gym challengers without too much concern. The whole place takes a different air when you’re focused on the beauty of its bioluminescence instead of the way its mushrooms slowly suffocate with their spores, immersed in the grandeur and mystery of the natural world instead of thrust into confronting its carelessness and cruelty first-hand. 

She told him, over the Rotom-phone on Thursday evening, that she wants to introduce him to her little protege. She’s taken in the reprobate who destroyed Stow-on-side’s mural in the name of gathering Wishing Stars ( _good riddance_ , thought he and half of the town, though none dare breathe a word against the Obvious Indomitable Wisdom of the past. Past people, Allister knows well, were still _people,_ no less or more significant than the people before or after. As one all for preserving culture and antiquity through the ages, he’s also fairly certain that the thing was bringing more harm than good to the people of the tiny town who live there _now_ ; tourists became all too interested in coming to Stow-on-side to take away pieces of its ruins and its history as kitschy keepsakes, not caring for what they’d leave in its place. He’s freed too many frillish from plastic wrap and picked up too much trash hurled over the cliffside to have anything but mild contempt for tourists. Part of him is hoping the chairman might be at least slightly inclined to protect the site or limit public interaction, just _something_ , but he heavily doubts it. He only has so much sway, even as a gym leader. They still see him as a child, which he cannot protest, but he also can’t understand why on earth that means he’s any less worth listening to.) The ex-gym challenger is now training to replace her. 

Well. Nobody can _replace_ Opal, not exactly, anyway, but she’s training the guy to run the gym when she retires. It’s still jarring for him to hear the word, _retires_ , but the truth is now that Opal is eighty-eight years old and would much rather pester a precious few friends and acquaintances from the sidelines than have to remain a public figure. He’s seen in snapshots as she grew from a child into a leader, a student to a mentor, and he supposes that helping someone else do the same is the next step in the cycle. It’s what she’s done for him just by suggesting he try for his current position, after all.

He can only hope that the challenger becomes someone deserving of it.

Allister walks alongside his Mimikyu, the latter carrying along a few packets of chamomile, and head towards Ballonlea’s gym. Mimikyu always appreciates visiting the odd little town and its strange energy, where reality warps just enough with a spark of fae magic to be interesting and speak to its fairy-type roots. It waves the stick it uses as a tail towards the chinchou working by the hour as street lamps, which serenade this slightly-weird-looking pikachu with a tiny sparkshower. 

They gym itself is a stage. Before she started to seek a successor, Opal’s gym puzzle used to take the form of a performance, with the challenger taking the role of hero. They’d have to defeat three gym trainers, each dressed in elaborate costume, to reach the final “tower” to rescue the “princess” from a “wicked witch”. Opal was so proud of herself when she’d gushed to him as a child of twelve about her devious plot twist, of making the “witch” and the “princess” both one and the same; about the whole exercise being devised to determine which of the challengers proved brave enough to be declared a “knight” of her court (or, at least, a badge holder. _Drama. Action!_ She’d articulated with her hands flying about, over-enunciating the words purely for effect. He’d sat on the tree stump and clapped.) She’d also thrown in just a bit of what she’d only explain to be “magic” to spice up the challenge. At the beginning of the battle, she’d present the challenger with stat changes; either a random stat debuff for each pokemon lost in the previous battle, or a random stat increase for a victory with no “lives lost”. She’d called it a morale factor. 

He doesn’t expect the challenge to be the same now, passing the gym trainers with a small nod of acknowledgement. Even only meeting the challenger ( _Bede_ , he reminds himself. She’d said his name is Bede, and that remembering it is very important. Evidently, too few people in his life do.) Even only meeting Bede once before, in the context of his own gym, Allister has picked up enough about the guy to know he’s not the type to enjoy even facetiously playing damsel. 

Though the gym trainers are used to his weekly visits by now, they still lightly shuffle him towards the main door rather than the back way as usual. He can only imagine Opal put them up to it, considering they all fear her far too much to cross her by harassing him. She’s selected a role for him to play, then, though Allister has no need to prove his strength and the gym challenge doesn’t even start for a few months by this point; it’s all part of a game. He accepts, even putting up with the costuming of a gym challenger, though he refuses to take off his mask for immersion, here (a line Opal, by now, knows not to cross.) He steps into the gym proper, and the spotlights descend.

The audience appears to be blissfully empty, at least, with only the gym trainers and the props he can tell have been lovingly hand-crafted (not that they lack the funding, but this test is clearly a prototype devised by someone with reservations about buying into an idea before testing it and letting those resources go to waste) standing before him. His first obstacle is a bridge over a river, the second a gate before a great forest; the final test is still obscured in shadow.

The first gym trainer approaches him. She looks unnerved, smothered in an old blue velvet cape that has to be far too warm in this weather. “Halt, challenger.”

“... Hi Annette,” Allister whispers, as though the familiarity will help soothe her nerves. It does not. She sounds stilted, reading from her script.

“Challenger, to earn the right to pass you must answer we these questions three. Are you prepared to embark on your quest?”

“...Okay,” says Allister, noncommittal. He isn’t nearly so invested in stage acting as Opal was (and is, though she’s toned it down over the years), but dredges up enough enthusiasm to sound like his emotions are, in fact, not numbed. Not even slightly. 

“What,” Annette begins, checking her script for the new question that’s appeared this rehearsal, “Is the airspeed velocity of an unladen flying taxi?”

“A Galarian or Alolan flying taxi?”

“You may pass.”

Allister nods, truthfully keeping himself from laughing then and there. Mimikyu makes a big show of jumping over the ribbons representing the water, then going back to jump the other way to show off, then tangling itself in the ribbons like a meowth drawn to a destiny knot. Allister eventually has to pick it up to get the two of them to move onwards. The gym trainers, giggling at the whole display, are horrible enablers. 

The next trial at the gate before the woods is remarkably similar, though the gym trainer guarding it is reluctant to consider “come in” an appropriate answer to a knock-knock joke. 

The final trial is at the foot of Opal’s old tower set, with a “gym trainer” calling herself the Keeper of the Password. Said gym trainer, of course, has dressed herself in a hood that obscures most of her face, save her nose and brilliantly blue sparkling eyes. She winks at Allister, who whispers to her the secret password shared between them and them alone. 

There’s a moment’s pause where, seemingly to Opal’s surprise as well, nothing happens. Bede is still backstage, audibly bickering with someone, and so she takes to chatting with Allister a moment instead. 

“It’s a good idea… could use some edits, though.” Allister shrugs, hugging Mimikyu to his chest.

“Yes, but I’m holding off until he brings them up himself. He’s been taking my suggestions as orders, poor thing, and this needs to be his own.”

*

Bede, backstage, is still deciding how to present himself to the challenger he’s supposed to have today. It’s his first real _gym_ fight as a leader, rather than an apprentice, and he can’t help but feel it’s far too soon. He can’t have the kid, whoever it may be, going off and telling anyone that his gym is a farce, his motifs are a mess, he doesn’t _deserve_ to take the title. No. A special occasion calls for special measures.

He’d sketched up a few costume designs, inspired by the gym leaders of far-off regions and their outfits. There isn’t even a uniform, in most of those places, making outfits like Blaine’s or Lucian’s or Anabel’s that much more striking and memorable. His favorite of the designs took a few hours of modelling from Gigantamax Hatterene (which were also rife with goofing off, admittedly), a jacket that splits into two ribbon-like ends that he can wear over his uniform with a blue-pink gradient, just like his ace. Opal brought the two of them snacks while they were working in the empty stadium, before leaving without a word. It wasn’t until much later that he found she’d been _making_ the thing, currently hanging up on the costume rack as though it’s always been there. 

He looks at himself in the mirror, now, just as he is. It isn’t too dramatically different from the rest of the gym trainers, no, but none of Galar’s gym leaders dress too ostentatiously, so he figures it ought to fit in among the others. Ought to. No, it _will_ , and he is sure of it. He can fit in among the other leaders, nevermind the things he’s said and done, if Opal can see something in him, well, can’t the others too? It isn't even as though he’s that remarkable of a case, what with there being two new gym leaders for the coming season with Marnie taking place of her brother, and the two of them aren’t even the only gym leaders who have yet to hit fifteen. It’s perfectly fine. He, is fine. 

He keeps his hand on Hatterene’s great ball, knowing full well that if she were to break out she’d go berserk with the state of his nerves. He won’t even need to bring her, anyway. It’s a gym match; a four-v-four, traditionally, with pokemon around level forty. He’s been training a team just for these types of battles: a Sylveon, a Mawhile, a Hattrem, and a Ponyta. Everything will be right as rain, and go swimmingly, won’t it?

Annette pauses in front of the costume rack behind him, grateful to finally be able to take her weighty cape off. “Hey, break a leg out there, kiddo. You’re gonna need to bring everything you’ve got.”

Yes. Just fine. Nothing more, nothing less.

He brings along his regular team. The team he’d travelled Galar with, the ones who have been by his side longer than any single person has. Now, not only for good luck, but just in case. 

Opal has neglected to tell him exactly who he is challenging today, but he’s had his bets on the little girl who speaks to the trees just behind the Pokemon Center. It’d be a familiar enough face, at least, and one unlikely to judge him _too_ harshly. Think best case scenario. Think showing a small child the wonders of theater, and making them think you are a true master of the fairy type. (Make them think you know what you’re doing, and that you aren’t petrified to go out there. Don’t even leave your worthiness up for debate.) You are Bede of Ballonlea, and you….

Are struck silent before the monologue even plays out in your mind.

What is _this_ kid doing here? Staring at him, probably, intentionally obscuring his face so that Bede doesn’t even have the luxury of knowing whether he’s being stared at or not.

“...Usually, this is about where you introduce yourself… you can do whatever you want, though. ‘S your gym." Allister shrugs, Mimikyu swaddled in his arms, now standing alone on the opposite side of the stage. The curtain is open, the scenery pushed aside, and Bede is smack in the middle of it.

Bede. Blinks. This _child_ is giving him advice? The child who seems to have only barely brushed coming of age to train a pokemon, let alone to lead a gym? The very thought is _appalling_ , save that. 

Well.

He certainly put up a fight during the gym challenge, didn’t he? KO-ing Bede’s team of psychics with that same ghostly stance, like he’s play-acting at being one of them. This isn’t his gym, is hardly his match, and Allister is still light on his feet like he’s the puppetmaster of a game Bede didn’t know he was playing. The one haven of safety and control Miss Opal has been so magnanimous as to give him after a fall from grace, and it’s threatened by a _literal child_. 

Bede immediately has it set in his mind; he will _own_ this rematch.

" … Right. Of course, Gym Leader Allister, but we have already been acquainted."

" 'm just Allister. It's okay, really."

"Alright! _Allister_ , then, w-what say you, to, a rematch!” Bede points to his challenger, hand shaking even now, though he’s hardly said a thing. 

"You don't have to try and sound smart," Allister says, deadpan even behind his mask.

"What?" Bede takes a step back, genuinely galled. "What is it you’re getting at? I’ll have you know that I—"

"It's okay if you're not all comfortable yet. You just got here… it's bound to be scary. Opal's a tough act to follow… for anybody, I mean." He readjusts his mask, a matter of punctuation. _You aren't the only person with insecurities, Bede. Maybe the kid who hardly ever shows his face to anyone can tell you a thing or two about finding ways to cope._

"C-Can we just start the match?! The stadium is this way," Bede’s shoes screech against the waxy stage floor.

"'Was told stadium's closed for the season. Maintenance and stuff. Got a good field here…." Allister tilts his head, in the vaguely unsettling way he does. He snickers to himself seeing Bede's grimace.

"Fine. You're on," Bede whirls around, head held defensively high. It isn't difficult to look down on Allister, being a good half a foot taller than him. He tosses Sylveon's great ball over his shoulder, glaring at the giddy Intertwining Pokémon.

"See… that's one of the first things she should have told you," Allister stands a little straighter, letting Mimikyu jump and twirl down to the floor with its own little flourish.. "…You can say no. It's your gym… your rules."

"You're awfully talkative for someone so _supposedly shy_ , aren't you?" Bede smirks over his collar from what he's sure is a safe distance. "Sylveon, dear, use Shadow Ball?"

"Play Rough," Allister replies, unperturbed. Unblinking. Knowing, somehow, the small circles of void inhabiting the space where eyes should be peering straight through Bede's facade and, Bede imagines with a slowly-growing horror, probably through to the soul, or something. Ghost specialists tend to be odd, after all, and really, would it stray too far from the truth of what this kid _already_ claims he can do?

Sylveon, new to formal battles, faints from the deep slashes of the physical attack. _Yes_ , Bede has to reconcile, _just because he had the type advantage does not mean that he is suddenly invulnerable_. Per the rules he’d set for his gym challenge, a slight modification of Opal’s, each knock-out of the opponent’s team nets a positive stat boost for the victor and a stat reduction for the losing team. It seemed like a good idea at the time, making battles fast-paced and decisive, but he is starting to regret it already. He returns Sylveon, for a split second looking apologetically towards its ball. He throws out Rapidash twice as hard.

"Shadow Sneak," Allister chimes in the moment Rapidash appears. Speed stats hardly matter, with moves that take priority.

"Above you!" is all Bede can cry before Rapidash is, nevertheless, ambushed. He clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms with an empathetic wince. Were it not for the stat changes, he might have been able to take the hit. Allister is now at plus two attack, with no obvious end in sight.

"…Are you okay?" Allister asks with disgusting sincerity, hands interlaced in front of him as he idly bounces on his feet. "…We can stop if you need to."

The _nerve_.

"I do _not_ need, or want, your _pity!"_ Bede lashes out, reaching straight for Hatterene.

At that moment, chaos breaks loose.

Hatterene needs only a moment to read Bede's emotional state before she lashes out with a Psycho-Cut, even outside of the regular turn structure. She blindly slashes in front of her, claws barred and sharp, amplifying the unadulterated _rage_ she’s sensing. It's one moment too late that he sees her glide just a little too close not to her opponent, but to Allister.

He, in a panicked lapse of judgement, _runs_ after Hatterene. _No, no this is bad. This is worse than bad, humans are all too fragile to withstand a blow from an angry psychic, let alone a child! This isn’t how battling works, this is not how gym leaders behave, what is Opal going to do when she finds out will she tell you how you’re FAR beyond just not worthy of the gym, but you’re not worthy of the life you lead either, is she going to lock you away or just leave you out in the cold too—_

He can't reach her in time, instead falling to his knees with his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Allister, for his part, blinks a little behind his mask. Hatterene simply. Phases through him.

"Polteageist," he calls, tossing the dusk ball into the air. "Aromatherapy. …It's about teatime, I think." Of course, Polteageist has no problem with the prospect, spreading the soothing scent to calm the battlefield. Polteageist goes so far as to approach Hatterene, whose Psycho-Cuts have slowed to a crawl, and invite her back center stage. Even Bede opens his eyes, shaking.

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

Oh, she _would_ be watching, wouldn't she? Bede refuses to look up at her, a snide comment buried somewhere under the lump in his throat.

"My, Polteageist has certainly grown," Opal coos to the little teapot, who is nothing short of delighted to see her.

"Still doesn't like battlin' much. The tea does wonders for, for when it gets to be too much, though."

Bede, now thinking clearly, returns Hatterene to her ball with a mutated exhale. It may have started as a haughty huff in dismay, or a sigh of relief. He can't say he can tell them apart, at the moment.

He looks up again, a few blinks to banish the start of tears, only to grow more confused than ever. Opal is ruffling Allister's hair, and Bede has to struggle to suppress the pang of jealousy crawling up his spine. "How," he pauses, taking a big breath to hide the wobbling of his voice. "How did you do that?"

"Do wh—"

"Don't play coy with me, how did you _avoid_ that? It, Hatterene, and then…." Opal pats Allister's shoulder as he hangs onto Polteageist's handle, prompting Bede to rub his eyes again. He must have been. What, stress-hallucinating? As though Opal would let any actual harm come to pass. Then again….

Allister offers his free hand to Bede, though the child looks too frail to be a support while he stands back up. Bede rolls his eyes, even so, and accepts. Clearly he's been wrong before. 

Allister smiles.

Bede only registers this concept after a good beat has passed, more concerned with looking to Opal to withstand her appraisal. She merely tilts her head back toward Allister.

His mask is off, now in Polteageist's hands as it whistles once Bede shows some sign of recognition. _Ta-daaaa_.

"…I see why you picked him," Allister looks up at Opal, letting the emotion drain from his voice into comfortable monotony. There's no indication that this is a good thing. It isn't a bad thing, either. "…'s too much like you."

"We'll see how that turns out, won't we?" Opal laughs, a mischievous glint in her eye. "But I'm proud of how far he's come."

Bede is struck silent. No, _no_ , scratch that, he is struck _directly_ to the point of tears, oh Hatterene G-max Smite him now, do not look up. Do not say a word. Do not.

Allister _giggles a bit_ , the madlad, comfortable enough with Opal here to say, candidly, "You should be…."

It's been a strange day.

Bede can hardly bring himself to speak, even after a few moments of processing, and once he does he can only actually croak out one thing: "Y. You said something about tea?"

*

"So you," Bede points across the plate of kasib berry cookies Opal has brought for the three of them, as though pointing both of his hands together will somehow emphasize the Pointing, "are a ghost?"

"Pretty much," Allister shrugs, drinking tea with a sickly purple sheen from a chipped old cup.

“And that’s just. Not a big deal, to you? Not being among the living, or…”

“You don’t need to point it out,” scolds Opal without so much as raising her voice. She regrets it a touch when she sees the way her charge flinches and puts his head down.

“It’s okay. I’ve been dead way longer than I was alive, so.” Allister shrugs, pushing himself to speak up and clearly for Bede’s sake. It’s sweet of Opal to try and shield him from something that might make him uncomfortable, but this room is small. It’s private, among friends, and it’s not like Bede is half as pushy as the press. “‘S natural to have questions. Opal and me have just been dealing with’em for long enough it stopped seeming weird.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

Allister shrugs, giving Mimikyu a cookie to munch on. It’s a little alarming, seeing it drag the sweets underneath its disguise the first time, but by the second it has its own charm. Allister busies his hands sewing up the neck of the disguise to stand upright again. When next he looks up, Bede is practically shaking with anticipation. “Hmm?”

“I said,” Bede starts, obviously irritated. He has to stop himself, take a breath, and reconsider. “Did you really not hear me?”

Allister lightly shakes his head, back to petting Mimikyu.

“...Huh. I was just meaning to ask, how you’re doing. Being a gym leader, mostly, but the whole. Dead thing too, I suppose.” 

Allister gingerly slips his mask back off like the thing is made of porcelain. This one, one of a hundred or so, actually is, or at least is made of ceramic and seems to be so old that it’s just as fragile. He keeps his head down, still shy, but willing to let Bede take a look at it for himself. It’s signed on the inside by the one who sculpted it, this mask that looks impeccable from far away but up close has bumps and ridges and thumbprints embedded in the clay; signed with a little butterfree-looking symbol. He looks over at Opal.

“Not even a crack, after all this time?” Opal is more than a little impressed.

“Oh, there’s plenty, but I’ve tried to mend them. Besides, ‘s not like I wear this one out every day. Plus, however long I was asleep…,” Allister takes another sip of Polteageist’s tea.

“That’s. Great and all,” says Bede, turning over the mask. “But, pardon if I might ask, what. What does this have to do with anything?”

“My masks are just… something that makes it easier for me. Going out in front of everybody, and all. And, I wouldn't have even thought it was possible without Opal…." 

"You sell yourself short," Opal tilts her teacup his way, and Allister shakes his head. _Not the point._

"You'll find ways to make it work if you try, and you're open to it. Like your Hatterene…."

"What _about_ Hatterene?" 

"You should try listening to her before you act. Taking care of her might help you take care of you… like Mimikyu." 

At the mention of its name, Mimikyu perks up, bounding around along the wall of Opal's cottage. There's even a little pile of cabbage cloth in the corner that it happily drops into, settling down from a sugar rush. 

Bede looks at Hatterene's great ball, contemplating. "Excuse me," he stands, emptying his teacup conscientiously, even if present company would almost rather he not. "I have to check on something."

"Okay…," Allister watches, or at least probably does behind his mask. When Bede's in the other room, he sighs with relief. "D. Did I do okay?" 

"Perfectly," Opal smiles, warm. "And you know what?"

"...?"

"I'm proud of you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> I drew a cover for this one
> 
> https://2sp00ky.tumblr.com/post/189839422085/it-was-at-that-point-that-all-chaos-broke-loose


End file.
